And Weren't We Both Fooling Each Other
by Padfoot Reincarnated
Summary: Remus wishes, sometimes, that it were Sirius, an infinitely simpler creature. But Regulus breathes into his ear, hot and melting on his neck, and his mouth is wet on Remus’ unshaven cheek and in the end Remus doesn't have a choice at all. RegulusRemus.


**So this is totally last minute. I sat down to write a chapter of a fic I'm working on, and _this_ came out. It is totally unbetaed, so I cannot speak to its quality, but I've been needing to write Remus/Regulus for a long time, and I really wanted to post it before Deathly Hallows in case something major comes out about one of their characters that will change things. Every one of these little segments is exactly one-hundred words long, which I thought was fun. Anyway, I know this is an unusual ship, but it's one of my favorites, and I hope you'll enjoy! There's also some minor unrequited SBRL.**

Christmas, to Remus, is day old cocoa and stepping on fallen pine needles and his mother's worry and his father's guilt. And, this year, the Blacks; especially the haughty, sneering boy who sulks around them and curls his fingers in reflex when he sees Sirius.

"Don't mind Regulus," Sirius says impatiently when he asks. "I'm sorry he's here, but he _is_ staying out of our way."

Perpetually unhappy, with all of his parent's love—the opposite of the other Black boy who Remus has, against his will, began to care so much about.

Perhaps there _is_ something to this family.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

The only time Regulus stops being a Black is when he is asleep. "The only time I can stand the nasty little bugger," Sirius says with an exaggerated shudder, and Remus can almost see what he means—almost. Because he is Remus, and he always notices the little things, and when Regulus is asleep he misses the way those cold hands constantly flex, the perpetual pinch to the corner of his mouth.

"He's not so bad," Remus says instead, crooking his lips so they smile.

Regulus, sleeping, curls towards the wall and yawns.

Remus thinks he likes this Regulus too.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Remus is accustomed to the twist to his stomach when he looks at Sirius, to the fall he takes whenever Sirius smiles.

And then there is Regulus, who looks so much like him; sharp, disdainful, with dark eyelashes and red lips and the horrible shimmer to his eyes that will be Remus' downfall, someday.

Regulus notices, of course, and smirks.

"My brother is a lovely fellow," he whispers, and leans in.

"What are you doing?" Remus asks him.

Years of being around the Blacks should have taught him not to be surprised when Regulus says, "I thought we were pretending."

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

"It's not as if I ever pledged you my undying love, or anything of that sort," Regulus informs him haughtily.

"Did I ask for it?" Remus asks him, and is rewarded with that crooked grin he's seen so many times (on someone else's face.)

And so Remus kisses him, and the matter is dropped. But the fact is, he _has_ been asking for it; has everyday since this began, risking the love of one brother for another.

But—the way Regulus touches the side of his face is enough for now. His life isn't some fairy tale or anything, anyway.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

It shouldn't surprise him—Sirius told them for years—but Remus' stomach lurches when he realizes that Regulus is _not_ Sirius.

It isn't that Regulus' hair is longer; his skin is whiter. It's—

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Lupin," Regulus says, a twitch to his hands showing Remus the mark his wrist. "This is something I have to do."

It's that Regulus was left with the cruelty that Remus expects from Sirius; and the rashness and the blind, foolish loyalty that Remus will never understand, and none of the insecurity to temper it.

Remus knows which one he wants.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

"They don't trust you anymore," Regulus breathes into his ear, hot and melting on his neck. "They don't trust you because of _me_." His eyes are wide and black, and he smiles; infinitely smug.

"It's not just because of you," Remus says, because if he says it again and again (and he will) it becomes true. "Your brother doesn't trust anyone."

Regulus winds his hand through the back of Remus' hair, relishing the way Remus cringes at the black sear on his arm.

"It's because of me," he repeats, mouth wet on Remus' unshaven cheek. "It's _always_ because of me."

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

It's almost a relief when they find his body; rigid, blood tricking from the eyes. Remus makes sure to know, remembers like he always does things he'll need.

There these things. Sirius shows up, drunk, staggering; and howls something about _My baby brother_. All Remus thinks is _You have no right._

He slips the key to Regulus' flat through the crack under the door. Washes the pillowcase of the smell of his hair. Empties the cabinets of his toothbrush and his shaver.

If he cries, it's only at night; and he wakes with his pillowcase wet and his bed cold.

**So? Do you like it? Anyway, Deathly Hallows comes out tomorrow, so I'm banning myself from the computer for the weekend. Please read and review.**


End file.
